


A Need for Rest

by Gleefullymacabre



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comfort, Gen, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 14:38:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9611840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gleefullymacabre/pseuds/Gleefullymacabre
Summary: Pike stayed with Scanlan after his resurrection.  Here's what might have happened if Percy hadn't felt mischevious.





	

The door closed heavily behind Grog. The muffled sound of voices was just audible enough to keep the quiet room from becoming an oppressive silence. Rather than eavesdrop on the conversation just outside the door, Pike stripped off her armor. She set the sacred plate next to Mythcarver, the sword as still and silent as its owner. She stripped the padding and outer clothes as well, down to the sweat-stiff but comparatively clean undergarments. A basin and jug of water waited on a table set near the fire, and Pike made use of these to clean some of the sweat and grime and undead sludge from her skin, though there was little she could do about the dried blood in her hair. 

As she washed, Pike’s eyes flicked to Scanlan’s reflection in the mirror. Vax had cleaned him as best he could in the Raven Queen’s temple, though his clothes still carried the dirt and blood from Raishan’s cavern. 

He looked so small. His slight figure diminished somehow. His performer’s garb that usually puffed around his slender limbs lay flat, highlighting his frailty of his form. The flowing fabric drooped limply across the oversized bed.

Pike looked away, focused instead on scrubbing a stubborn smear from her forearm. The curve of her bicep bulged with sinew, lined with strength, pale skin bruised from the heavy armor she wore daily. Her shoulders had grown broad during the last few years. Scanlan used to joke and ask her to carry him; she had never realized how easily she could. 

The washcloth flopped into the basin. She would not do any more harm to the sheets now than Scanlan already had. She hefted herself onto the bed (solid, strong, not strong enough) and took a moment to unfold the covers over Scanlan’s comatose form. Even after all this time, she remembered the cold touch of death. She should bank the fire to help chase away the imaginary chill, but his chest was moving, a slight expansion of a slight chest followed by the minute relaxation that settled that much deeper into the mattress. She slid one of her hands around his wrist, so slight her fingers curled easily around to meet at his pulse. His heart beat a steady rhythm against the hard pad of her thumb. 

“I’m in hell.”

Pike looked up to find Scanlan’s eyes finally open, staring blankly at the ceiling. “What?” she choked out while suppressing a relieved sob.

His voice sounded weak and thin, breathed through cracked lips and a throat too long without water. “I finally got you in my bed, and I’m too tired to do anything about it.”

Pike coughed out a laugh, her forehead pressing against his shoulder. She looked up in time to see him smiling. It was a small smile, but real.

“What happened?” he wheezed.

“You… you died… again.” It hurt that she failed him, and failed to keep her promise to him and to Kaylie. Twice in as many days. She was turning into the biggest liar in the Trickfoot family tree. 

“Ugh, that sucks.” Scanlan shifted, like he was trying to rise. “Where is everyone else? Are they okay?”

“Everyone’s fine!” She pressed his shoulder into the mattress with one hand, almost startled by how slight it felt in her palm. “Grog’s by the door, Vex is stuck in Kymal for a while, but we’ll get her in the morning. I don’t know, Kaylie’s probably still drunk--”

“Kaylie’s here?!” He shifted again, almost managing to sit up this time. “What.. why?’

Pike sat up to press both hands against his shoulders. He needed rest. “We figured if anyone could get you back, it’d be her.”

He went limp easily enough, letting out a harsh breath. “Is that why my face hurts more than the rest of me?”

“Probably. She hit you twice.”

Scanlan nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “I probably deserved it.” His lips pressed together in a hard line. “I’m… glad she came. Maybe she doesn’t hate me so much, huh?”

Pike settled her head against his chest with a shrug. “I think you’re more loved than you know,” she said bluntly.

“Why, Miss Trickfoot!” She had to smile at the lilting tease in his tone. “Are you trying to take advantage me, in this poor, feeble state? By all means!”

She chuckled against his throat. “Maybe tomorrow. I don’t think you could handle a matinee right now.”

“That’s a promise.”

The gnomes fell silent, the gentle hum of a living sword the only sound in the quiet room.

* * * * *

Percy drank from the bottle Kerrek had found, each swallow easier than the last. “I keep thinking of terrible things to do to him.”

Grog jerked his head towards the door. “Pike’s in there. She can probably help.”

“Hm, perhaps.” Percy handed the bottle back to Kerrek and slipped behind Grog to open the door. He peered in, squinting against the darkness. Pike’s pale hair stood out against the dark tone of Scanlan’s silks. She lay on top of the duvet, curled against Scanlan’s covered form. Long musician’s fingers curled protectively around broad shoulders. Pike’s head rested against Scanlan’s chest, ear pressed over his heart, her fingers curled around a thin wrist, poised to feel every jump of a pulse. 

Percy pulled his head back out and closed the door silently. “I’ll wait for Vax to wake up,” he announced. “He’s got a better head for this sort of thing. Good night.” He nodded to both men and left them to their carousing, and the gnomes undisturbed for the night.


End file.
